


Sky full of stars

by Wallyallens



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, RipFic, time canary drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wallyallens/pseuds/Wallyallens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sara and Rip are stranded on a pirate ship in the 1700's, and she can't believe this is her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sky full of stars

Sara honestly doesn’t know how these things happen to them.

‘ _A simple mission_ ’, Rip said. 

‘ _Nothing can go wrong_ ’, Rip said. 

She wondered if he’d somehow managed to block out the last year entirely through a mixture of anger, pure will power, and that strong stuff that he kept in the liquour cabinet in his office that made Ray go blind at Christmas, and was living under the blissful illusion that any of their plans ever went the way they expected them to. It was the only reason she could think of as to why he would believe this was a good idea.

That man’s optimism that they were anything other than a band of fuck-ups stumbling their way from one bad decision to the next, even with good-to-neutral intentions, would probably be the death of them all one day. And they’d all pledged to follow him until that day arrived. But if Rip Hunter was anything, he was resilient, and there remained hope in his eyes as he looked at them all and announced his plan.

Naturally, they’d lost every other member of their team and were currently stranded in the early 1700’s on a pirate ship. It was a change in scenery, to say the least. She had spent the last week as a deck hand alongside Rip as they waited for the pirates to return to port, where they at least had a chance of finding their friends.

“What are you doing up here?”

The voice carried from just below her, from where she sat high up in the rigging, on a tiny platform built among the mast to harbour a watch point, a place she had taken as her own over the past few days. It allowed her the best view across the water for land or enemies: away from the other men on the crew and with only the noise of the whistling wind. Oddly, it was the most peaceful she remembered being in a long time, sitting in her little tower.

Rip’s face followed his voice a moment later as he appeared, head bobbing up next to her own where she lay on the platform, seeing her there with a look in his eyes that was torn between concern and exasperation – his signature look, by all accounts. Having his suspicions confirmed that she was lying there, unable to be seen from the deck, he leaned his chin against the boards of the platform to peer over at her, balancing on the ropes as if he had been doing it his whole life. 

At his question, she didn’t even bother looking over. “Enjoying the quiet.”

“Ah,” Rip replied quietly, closing his eyes briefly. “You’re still angry at me.”

Sara’s lips twitched up at that. It was Rip’s fault they were at sea at all – he had to go and get himself knocked unconscious and carried aboard during an English Raid on the Port they were staying in during their mission; the pirates thought they were saving him from the English by bringing him on board, where in fact they had stranded them both on the ship. She had been the only one who could find him in the chaos, seeing them take him on board and following – how could she let him go alone?

So now they were both stranded at sea with a bunch of pirates who leered at her until she took a finger from the first to try and touch her without her permission.

“I’m not mad,” she said, finally tilting her head in his direction. Her eyes were wide and their noses only inches apart where he rested his chin, almost challenging him to move away under her gaze; Rip did not, only tilting his own to match the slant of hers to they were looking at each other evenly. It was evening, so she had brought a candle up with her – now it illuminated them both enough to see one another, shadows dancing across Rip’s face as she looked steadily at him. “How did you find me?”

“I asked someone. Do you know what he said?” Rip replied, and there was definitely a sparkle in his eyes this time, a teasing smile on his lips. He put on a terrible imitation of a pirate’s voice, the kind she vaguely remembered from cartoons and movies, and recited, “ _Where else would the little bird be? She’s up in her nest._ ” 

Sara burst out laughing, face cracking into joy. The whites of her teeth gleamed next to the gold of her hair as she rocked with the movement, always a surprise to him with just how full of life she was – despite everything, the first thing that came to mind when he thought of the woman was movement and laughter. It was good to hear it again.

He smiled at the sound, edges of his lips twisting up and staying there before he added. “It would seem that no matter where we are, you will always be a Canary.”

“I like the idea of that.”

Rip straightened his features, asking softly, “Are you alright? You’ve been spending a lot of time up here on your own.”

Although she did not usually like to talk about it, she was just tired enough to sigh, “It’s just . . . I miss the others. It’s weird them not being here. Usually when we get into trouble like this-”

“At least it’s all together,” Rip finished. “I know. I will admit this past week the absence of Mr. Palmer shouting about wanting a parrot to match our new situation or Mr. Rory, well, picking fights with anyone and everyone has been noticed.” When she cracked a smile at that, he leaned a fraction closer, lowering his voice to a hushed whisper and adding conspiratorially. “It’s okay to say you wish you weren’t just stuck with me. Even I find it rather disconcerting without them.”

“I’m glad it’s you,” she replied, rolling her eyes when she saw Rip’s face soften a little more at that. Laughing gently with her head back against the wood, she added. “Don’t go getting a big head. I just meant at least I know Mick can’t hijack the Waverider and leave us here, as we’re the only ones who can pilot her. But now that they probably think we’ve been killed by pirates . . .”

The smile dropped from her face. Sara’s brightness dimmed, creased lines of joy on her features falling slack, eyes staring without seeing as Rip watched her with worry, knowing the source of her pain. Ghosts followed her around, as they did him, and she had been one before. Just as the traces of his family marked him, he saw her sister in the quiet way she cared, in the pain which crossed her features from time to time when faced with loss; just like the look she wore just then.

“Have heart, Miss Lance,” he prompted softly. “We’ll be reunited with the rest of the team soon enough.”

In answer, Sara looked at him briefly before moving over, making space for him to join her in the bird’s nest. Still reclining on her back with eyes full of stars, the candle on her other side, she watched as he settled, perched awkwardly beside her. Rip sat with his legs over the edge, one hand on the shoddy rail around the edge. 

“So,” he said, looking back to her. “Why here?”

“Excuse me?”

“Everywhere on this ship, and this is where you chose here to spend your time. Why?”

“I like it here,” she answered, putting one hand under her head to prop it up, “It’s quiet. I don’t have to deal with assholes leering at me because they haven’t seen a woman in a week. Or assholes whispering about me because I can hold a sword better than any of them, and it makes them feel weak deep down in their man-bits.” Rip chuckled, and Sara laughed again. His head turned back out towards the sea when she started talking again, soon making him glad that he couldn’t see the look on her face. “I like looking at the stars . . . when I – when I died, when I fell off that roof, the last thing I saw was the sky. It was cloudy that night . . . there was nothing but darkness mixed with cloud and fog. It’s stupid, but I remember wondering where the stars were, even as I fell.”

Rip answered quickly, words spilling out of his mouth at the same moment he thought them, “I don’t think that’s stupid. I think it’s human.”

He wasn’t looking at Sara as he made the admission, but he could feel her eyes on him. They were burning his skin more harshly than the mid-day sun from their days on the ship, the exposure turning both of their cheeks pink and backs tanned; now it marked itself aside from the night-time coolness out at sea, the breeze a breath against his skin, trailing goose bumps along his arms where he sat. 

Rip was aware of the elements as a sailor of his own kind, and aware of her because – well, he just was. Whenever Sara entered a room, his eyes flicked to her first, usually accompanied by a nod of respect. Her voice stood out in crowds and chaos. He could spot her hair a mile away. Like it or not, he was always acutely aware of Sara Lance, this laser beam of focus only increased sevenfold in moments like this where she showed him parts of herself she rarely spoke about.

Now this sense was telling him about the way her breath had caught while she was speaking but had held itself in the pause before he spoke, released in a short puff the moment she heard his words in relief. It told him she was still lying, but her head was angled towards him now instead of the stars. He knew her eyes were there on the back of his head, a flush creeping up the bare nape of his neck as it lingered, deliberately keeping his eyes on the horizon.

It was a hard-won fight.

He felt it when she moved, sitting quickly before scooting forwards until she sat beside him on his right, legs dangling over the side. Creating a rush of air as she did so, he watched from the corners of his eyes as she settled. Sara turned to him. For a moment, her mouth opened with hesitation, eyes clouded as she formed words in her head, a habit he had noticed a while ago for when she was trying to find the right thing to say.

Rip stayed silent. He trusted she would find the right words on her own. She didn’t need him putting words into her mouth or thoughts into her head, she knew her own mind all too well.

“Thank you,” she decided on, speaking quickly and in a rehearsed manner, prompt and without the pause of thinking – broken only by gaps where she hesitated, unsure of whether or not to say whatever it was she was thinking. When she twisted at the waist to face him, he turned his head to return the gaze, nodding at her to continue with that he hoped was an understanding expression. “For always seeing me that way – not – not as a monster. Not you when first learned about the bloodlust, not when I held a _knife_ to your throat . . .”

A bitter edge crept into her tone, self-resenting and icy, so he cut her off. Rip placed a hand on Sara’s arm. “That is forgiven, not that there was ever anything to forgive. You had just lost . . . you lost someone important to you. I know what that feels like.”

He held her gaze until she nodded, a grateful look in her eyes. Sara continued, “Even if it’s forgiven, the point was: I held a knife to your throat, and you didn’t look scared. I’ve lost it and attacked Kendra, she looked terrified – but you? You didn’t even blink.” Her tongue darted between her dry lips, slightly parted, as she finally looked away. Eyes on the sea again, she gently rested her head against his shoulder. “You never looked afraid of me, Rip. I’m always going to be grateful for that.”

“And you have stood by my side and forgiven my careless actions when I have behaved – frankly – like a complete arse,” he chuckled in response. Sara’s head bobbed with the movement, “I don’t know much about dying. But I doubt many would have came back with as much strength and perseverance as you have, Miss Lance.” He felt her sit up at that, face too close to his when he changed the subject to spare her from having to answer that. He pointed out at the clear sky ahead, “One thing I do know about, however, is the stars.”

“You see that star there – and see how it seems to make a square with those ones?” Rip asked, letting her touch her chin to his arm to follow his finger as he pointed. She nodded, and he moved it slightly to show her the limbs leading off of that square. “And there, how those stars lead off it like arms and legs? Like he is kneeling?”

“Yes, I see him! A man in the sky . . .” Sara breathed excitedly, eager eyes turning to Rip. “Who is he?”

“Hercules,” Rip answered, letting his hand fall back to his side, where she was leaning again, left hand behind his back to prop herself up, while the right was on his own right arm, so she was now turned completely into him, chin hovering over his shoulder. It was distracting to say the least. “I . . . t-the story goes that he is kneeling like that because he is carrying the weight of all the world, during one of his twelve tasks to prove himself. Hercules was cheated by Atlas into bearing the weight, which was the Titan’s to carry, until the hero managed to trick him into taking back the burden. So there he is now in the stars, bending to carry the sky.”

“That’s a sad story.”

He blinked over at her. “Why?”

“It sounds like an awful thing. For one person to have to carry the entire world,” she admitted, eyes flicking down to her hand on his arm as she spoke in an attempt to keep her words from becoming as heavy as the burden they were discussing. “All those people and places, everything that ever happened there . . . I suppose it’s like us with all of time, really. Being responsible for yourself, that’s one thing – but carrying everyone? I couldn’t do it.”

“You’d never have to,” Rip replied firmly. Reaching over with his left hand across his body, he took hers, grasping her fingers between his own. She looked up quickly at that. “Not alone, anyway. Not while I’m here . . . I’d never let you bear that burden alone while I’m alive to hold it with you.”

The way she looked at him then wasn’t quite a smile. It didn’t hold the teasing or joy of her laughter, the erupting way her smiles seemed too bright, too intense; nor was it a look of confusion. She just looked at him intensely. Her eyes stayed on his, softening, and her lips pressed together in what could be the start of one of those blazing smiles, but her attention was redirected by the emotion behind his words.

She wore her emotions plainly in that moment. Sara, the master assassin, the one who could hold a straight face better than any member of their crew, who in control of her every movement, showed the racing emotions inside of her on her face – hope and uncertainty, gratitude and vulnerability, fear and affection and kindness. 

She looked at him, and he at her, until after a few moments she recovered and changed her face again, eyes turning back to the constellation to comment dryly. “Hercules still has a triangle head.”

It took a beat for them both to collapse from confusion into giggles, Sara dropping her head into Rip’s shoulder as she laughed, face pressed into the familiar fabric of his coat. It was the only thing close to home on this ship. He tilted his own head into her, until the scruff of his beard touched the softness of her hair. It was a quiet moment. Even with the wind billowing around them, the sails flapping against it and hitting the mast, the talk of the crew; it felt like just them and the stars.

Rip let out a soundless final laugh, pushing the air out of his nose with a half shake of his head. After months and years of fighting, to be outlaws, working hard labour on the ship as they were, felt easy. Sitting there right then with Sara felt easy. With the momentum of his contented sigh, he swooped his arm around her shoulder where she was leaning into him, turning it into almost a hug, pulling her closer for a moment, fingers rubbing against her shoulder where they rested after feeling the cold skin there.

“We’ll be alright, no matter what,” he assured her in that moment. It was cold, but she was warm, and he believed it. “You and I. Even if we were to return to port and find the Waverider missing, we’d find a way to get back. Make a signal or make do . . . I imagine we’d make quite good pirates. Get a crew, get a ship-”

When Sara snorted, he felt the warmth of her breath against his ear. “Well, the Waverider _is_ a name for a real ship.”

“Excuse me, she already is a real ship!”

“You know what I mean,” Sara laughed at his indignation. “ _Wave _rider – it’s a boat name, it was always supposed to belong to the sea. It might be nice. We get another Waverider, find some people – notice I said _people_ and not men, there has to be equal opportunities on our ship-”__

__Rip nodded solemnly, playing along. “Of course.”_ _

__“-and recruit a group of people who are loyal to us and our cause.”_ _

__“And what shall that be?”_ _

__“What?”_ _

__“Our cause,” Rip answered. She had leaned back a little to look him more squarely in the face, hovering a few inches in front of his own. He shrugged as she blinked in confusion, “What is it going to be? Without the original Waverider our mission is impossible, we need something else to fight for.”_ _

__“Not else. Something _new_ ,” she replied firmly, before breaking off to consider that point. Sara had scrunched up her nose as she thought, lips pursed in concentration. She hummed. “Our mission . . . it was a lot of different things, but mostly it was about justice. Maybe instead of trying to bring it to all of time, we do it here: this island, these people . . . there’s a war brewing, a lot of bad men fighting and stealing and hurting others – maybe we fight to keep it free.”_ _

__Rip was smiling at her again, that press of his lips tinged with both victory and melanchony. But it was an honest look – he didn’t pretend to be one hundred percent okay, and didn’t expect that from her, either. Sara liked his smile. When she proposed their cause, he started nodding.  
“Fighting for freedom, and for a tiny spot of paradise in a vast universe,” he said, “I like that. But how do you know it’s worth fighting for?”_ _

__“Because you’re here,” Sara replied. She was so close he could feel her breath on his face. “And we’ll _make_ it somewhere worth fighting for. A real home.” She smiled, breaking the tension of the moment by placing her head on his shoulder again. “We already have a Captain. Just need a ship now, and we’re good to go.”_ _

__“You could be Captain just as well as I, probably better, in fact,” he said, “You managed the Waverider well. You navigated by map where I always used technology, you would make a fine Captain. It does have a good ring to it: Captain Lance.”_ _

__Sara smiled warmly. “Like my dad . . . but then who would be Quartermaster? You’re not good with people, Rip. And besides, being Captain sounds like way to much responsibility for me. I’d never get moments alone like this.”_ _

__He was laughing again, “I may not be too good with people, that is true. But I also don’t believe for a _second_ that there is anything you couldn’t handle.”_ _

__“Yeah, well . . . I gotta leave something for you to do,” she joked back, tapping her head against his shoulder in a definitive way. “You’d get bored otherwise.”_ _

__“In your company? Never.”_ _

__“Charmer.”_ _

__“I have to be, I suppose,” he said, turning to speak to her in a way that meant his lips brushed against her hair. She felt it move under his breath and shifted closer into him, jaw above the line where his collarbone would be underneath his coat. “You _did_ come with me so I wasn’t stranded here alone. If I don’t talk to you, I’m stuck talking to the swine that call themselves crew down there.”_ _

__Sara laughed out loud, the sound echoing among the sails as she sat and shoved him away, knowing he only meant it in teasing. Rip caught her hand as she moved to push him away, dissolving into his own fits of laughter at her spluttering of anger, lacing it again through his own as she rocked back and forth, settling by his side again._ _

__“Oh, so that’s all you keep me around for?” she questioned, left eyebrow jumping up. “Next time I’m going to let you get your ass kicked and kidnapped, you know, if that’s all I mean to you.”_ _

__“You mean far more to me than that,” Rip replied without hesitation, essence of the laughter still alight in his eyes and the curve of his lips. There was no doubt on his face when he looked at her, the smile falling from his face when he saw her staring at the reply. Slowly, Sara moved forward, giving him a chance to move away if he wanted to._ _

__Rip didn’t._ _

__For as sharp as her smile was, Sara’s lips were softer than he could have imagined. Her hand migrated to his face as she leaned in to kiss him, resting along his jaw, fingernails digging into the scruff at the corner of his jaw as she pulled him closer. But as soon as the thought to catch a breath filled his mind, she had pulled away, putting her forehead against his even as he gasped, breathing heavily as they sat._ _

__Eventually, he looked up. Sara saw the hesitation in his eyes and nodded, making a decision; she lay back on the deck, tugging him along with her. When they lay, she curled into his side, head on his shoulder, entwined together – and she did nothing else. They just lay together. Rip felt his heartbeat slow to its normal pace, and squeezed where he held her arm in silent gratitude._ _

__“We’ve got all the time in the world here,” Sara said quietly, thoughtfully. “And if we’re lucky and the team are still there when we get to port, we still have time. All of time, to be exact.”_ _

__“I’m sorry. It’s just-”_ _

__“Moving on isn’t easy, nobody said it was. I understand, Rip,” she replied, her thumb reassuringly rubbing back and forth across his rib where it lay. Turning her head back up to him, she smiled again. “But right now – tell me more about the stars.”_ _

__As she turned her eyes skyward again, he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have Sara Lance in his life in any capacity, let alone be falling in love with her._ _

__“As you wish.”_ _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! if you comment an era you'd like me to write a time canary mini fic like this in, comment it and I'll do my favourite suggestions :)


End file.
